Just thought I'd post a few excerpts for my new book which will be available June 7, 2010! :-)

They were back! What did they want this time? She was paralyzed as ice water seemed to creep through her veins. Her muscles refused to cooperate. She wanted to
run, to hide, anything but this awful feeling of being unable to move. No! No! Not again! I donít want to go with you! As usual her wants were not taken into account, and the familiar process began to take place.

The white light that was blinding and so common to these experiences spilled into the room from one window on the west wall. Her bed was turned so the foot of it faced the opposing wall in an attempt to deter her tormentors in the hopes that she could deter her tormentors.

Wolf howled in the back yard, and his chain rattled in an attempt to get to her. There would be no protection this night. They had found her again. No matter how many times she moved, they found her. The recent move to Portland, Oregon was no exception. For a year she was safe. Now it didnít matter, it was all starting again.
Her body felt light and she levitated off the bed. The blood stilled in her veins, her body growing stiffer. The sensation of fight or flight took over, but she had no energy to follow through with it.

There was a small scraping sound to her left and she turned her eyes, the only thing she could move in that direction. The window opened by itself. A blue beam with her torturers, tiny, hairless gray beings with large black eyes flowed into the room. She shut her eyes; she didnít want to see them. Her blankets were removed, and hands guided her body.
Their grainy, leathery hands were so cold she shivered involuntarily. She hated it when they touched her. Caught in the blue beam she looked up to see something she had hoped never to see again. Her body floated out the open window and then up, up, up towards the waiting craft.

Her back brushed the top of the cedar tree in her back yard. She knew which tree it was because she could smell its calming scent. Far below her Wolf had ceased his howling, but she could still hear his whimpers as though from far away. Tears that would not fall grew in the corners of her eyes. I should never have tied Wolf up in the backyard. If she had kept him with her maybe she would not be about to suffer this again.

Unable to resist she opened her eyes just in time to see the bottom of the craft open up before she floated inside. Terror moved through her, making her previous fear seem as nothing. What are they going to do this time? What tests will they perform? Will they return me to my home, or will I disappear from Earth never to be seen again? The not knowing what to expect was the worst. The only thing that was ever certain with these experiences was it would be extremely painful both psychologically and physically.

Everything else about the experiences depended on the tormentors.
She opened her eyes, and looked around. I mustíve blacked out again. She wiggled her fingers and attempted to pick up her hands, but found she could not. They had put her wrists in restraints. She tried to lift one of her legs and found her ankles restrained as well.
They removed my clothes again! It was one of the worst things about the experiences.
She had nothing, nothing. No way to protect herself. No way to run. No way to escape. It was always the same, trapped like a rat in a maze with nowhere to hide.

Huge black tilted eyes that seemed to almost encompass the entire width of an overly large gray skull were peering down at her. She found she could not seem to look away.

Donít be afraid, we will not hurt you. An almost mechanical voice touched her mind.

Leave me alone! Let me go!

You are special, you are one of our chosen ones. Only you and others like you can help save your planet. The voice continued as though she was not trying to resist.

In some dim corner of Angelís mind she knew she had been told this before. In fact this was their main communication at the beginning of an experience. They were trying to distract her from what they were doing. She remembered this from the other times. They would speak to her in her mind, tell her how special she was and how what they were doing to her would help them to save her world. It was all lies. She knew what they were doing, and she knew it was wrong.

She felt their leathery hands on her stomach. She tried to look down, but the alienís black eyes would not let her. A sharp agonizing pain in her stomach below her navel told her they were doing a familiar procedure. A procedure they called a pregnancy test and that was performed by inserting a large needle about a quarter inch around into her ovaries to extract eggs. Why they called it a pregnancy test, she had never been able to figure out.
Some small part of her mind grasped weakly at the idea, there was something here she was not remembering, something important.

You are feeling no pain, no pain. It interrupted her thought processes.

No pain, my ass!

For some reason, her tormentors seemed to think if they told her there would be no pain, it would somehow miraculously disappear. What a crock! She always felt the pain of their procedures.

The agony escalated to enormous proportions, and Angelsís mind in an effort to escape it caused her to black out. At least this was what she always had felt happened. She could never be sure if it was the pain, or if the being who kept her distracted somehow put the suggestion into her mind.

***
Angel Whitedove opened her eyes. Her stomach hurt badly. She pulled her legs up and held herself in a fetal position. It was starting again. They were back. She groaned softly and realized she could not run this time, there was nowhere to go. They always found her in the end. It might take them a year or so, but they always found her. Now that they had, the sleepless nights, the nightmares, and the silent horror was about to start all over again.
Her mouth felt like the inside of an old shoe, and tasted like one too. A wild shiver moved through her. She looked down and saw she was naked. They had not bothered to redress her this time. Carefully she sat up and checked out her stomach. Just below her navel was a small red puncture wound. It had not just been a bad dream then. They had really found her again. Damn!

Angel reached up to brush long strands of dark hair away from her face, and her hand came away with small sprigs of cedar. She pulled the cedar from her hair and got up from the bed. She looked around for her robe but could not find it. Her tormentors must have decided to keep it for a souvenir. Taking a deep breath to clear the cobwebs from her mind she went to her dresser and pulled a clean t-shirt and underwear out and put them on.

She knew from experience she needed to get out her Polaroid camera and take a picture of the small puncture wound on her stomach because it would be gone by early afternoon.
Angel despondently wandered into the kitchen for a plastic bag to put the cedar twigs in. She knew they were not really proof but like the puncture wound they were the only tangible evidence that the visitors had found her yet again.

She felt like crying but what good would that do? As a child when she had first begun to remember the horrible experiences she would cry for days after being taken, her father really the only person able to console her. But her father was no longer with her, and there was no one to hold her and tell her everything would be ok. Angel made sure of it. She allowed none close to her so no one could be touched by the visitors as she had been. She did not want the responsibility.

The Polaroid camera positioned, her shirt lifted and the panties lowered she took several pictures of the puncture mark on her stomach. The journal lay open to a new page with the date written at the top, and the bag of cedar was taped to it. There was room for at least one of the Polaroid pictures beneath it. The other two pictures along with a few other of the sprigs of cedar would be placed in a safety deposit box at her bank along with a second copy of the journal. She would deposit the pages with the experience along with them later in the day. If there was one thing she had learned in investigating this phenomenon, the visitors were not above stealing evidence. She always made sure she had two sets, one locked away safely where they hopefully could not get to it.

Fortunately, they had not tampered with her coffee maker and the required two cups was hot and waiting for her just as she had set the timer to do. Standing at the counter she looked out the window and what promised to be another sunny but cool day. Spring in Oregon could be incredibly fickle, boasting sunshine in the morning and black roiling clouds filled with rain by afternoon. Angel did not mind though, she loved Oregon. It was worth all the rain to have the beautiful green everywhere. The trees, the flowers, the grass; it was all so colorful this time of year. I should never have left.

Angel stood on tiptoe to reach up and grab a mug out of the cupboard above and to the left of her sink. She poured herself a mug of caffeine fortification and added cream and sugar before she turned and walked to the table to record the events of last evening in what she privately called her ďtormentor journal.Ē She needed to get it all down while it was fresh in her mind, at least what she could readily recall. Later she would transcribe her notes into her computer and take the printed pages to be added to her typed version of the journal that was ensconced in her safety deposit box at her local U.S. Bank. One could never be too sure with the visitors.